Dienstag, 22. März 2016


In the lead-up to my mother's death, I gained strength through the support of my siblings. When I saw her suffer, I was grateful for her DNR. I knew that I didn't want anything to prolong her suffering.
But when the time came, oh I wanted her to breathe. I kept fussing over her and my siblings were somehow able to stay calm for her. So I excused myself and left the house. I was beside myself. I had no idea what to do. I'd grabbed my coat and my wallet and I walked to the liquor store down their road and bought cigarettes. (What else would an ex-smoker who was upset about her mother dying of cancer do?)
I needed to call somebody. But I didn't have my phone. I had my mother's phone and every number in that phone's address book were people who were suffering about their loss. But low, my father's number was in there! My father, who'd had an amicable relationship with my mother since they agreed to be good co-parents at their children's milestones like graduations and weddings and whatnots. My father, whose text message to my step-father had given him the strength to call hospice for my mother and prepare for the end. 
I called my dad and plead with him to tell me how to be like my siblings. Quick! Just tell me how to be calm and helpful because I have to go back in there. 
My father told me that it sounded like I did a good job. Just before my mom's death rattle began, I cleaned her up, changed her diaper, changed her bedding, got her comfortable. That was something I could do. My siblings were doing what they could do now. He gave me peace and got me to breath deep and as I hung up the phone, I turned to my husband who'd joined me on the front lawn to tell my that my mother had died. 
The peace my father gave me in that horrific moment is something amazing to me. I've never been more grateful for anything before or since so far. 
Now his partner is dying and I wish so desperately that I could give him peace.  

Mittwoch, 16. März 2016

That creepy story

Monday I had pain and yesterday there was a wound and today I got some care. It was all ok. The sutures that should have dissolved didn't and were expressing their need to be removed.

I visited my local stoma counselor and as they are all psychic there, she told me that though she was removing my stitches, I should know that I have NO chance of this causing my stoma to slip back into my body. I dunno how they do it without a crystal ball or some magic cards or anything. They just know my brain. And my brain is always expecting the zebra at a horse ranch. When taking hormone shots for IVF, my mind went straight to extreme ovarian over stimulation. And since  February 4th, I have had reoccuring nightmares that my intestine gets sucked back into my abdomen. Even though the more common issue is it herniating further out of the abdomen.

If you're not grossed out yet, I shall tell you that creepy story. The one that I try never to tell to any hypochondriac: Back when I was in Floating hospital in Boston, I was allowed to have a roomate again after I had my lower intestine removed. (If you've got to be in hospital with Crohn's, it's pretty great that they typically give you your own room because of Cdif risk.) The chick who moved into my room had a story. She was 17 and seemed way cooler than me and had arrived at the hospital in a chopper after breaking her ankle in South America. They'd set the ankle and sent her home, but it was all inflamed and they had to operate and reset it back in Boston. Her mom was super attentive in the way that a mother would naturally be after allowing her minor daughter to go to South America without her and return broken.
While attending to her daughter, my roommate's mother was rubbing some cream on her daughter's knees for her. It was a lovely smelling cream and was meant to help her daughter relax and gave the whole stinky hospital room a lovely lavender scent. Her mom asked her "What's this? Does it hurt or itch?" and her daughter and I both got curious. The mom showed the lump that she was talking about and palpated it gently and gasped "oh, it's moving!"
My roommate got her own private room once they'd opened her back up and removed the things that had hatched inside my roommate's wound from her break in South America.

This story gives me perspective. I can remind myself that I'm dealing with a horse problem. But it also gives me the peace of knowing that there are Zebras out there. 

Dienstag, 15. März 2016


Back in 2007, I was in a crime book club. I don't enjoy reading crime books, but I'd heard that they argued a lot and 2 of them were German, so I thought that I could improve my arguing in German as a newcomer to Switzerland. It was true and even when I didn't partake, I got to hear a lot of arguing in German, which was quite helpful.
We never discussed the books until after dinner, so during the first hour or so of our get togethers we'd eat dinner and discuss politics and religion. (I wish that I was joking.) As the 2008 elections heated up, the subject of Obama came up and I got my first chance at germanic repartee when the two German members mentioned their knee-jerk reaction to seeing a population whipped into a froth by a charismatic leader. I got it and everything, but Obama was whipping people in a super positive way so I didn't get their fear.
I get it now.
This blog has begun to resemble an ostomate or infertility blog in the past year and I've never really written about politics, but I've been thinking about that book club dinner as the primaries and debates are raging back in the motherland. The two Germans in my book club never said the word "Hitler" because they're German and not trolls on the internet, but we all know that that's what they were talking about, yes? That name has been tossed around will nilly and it feels like it's lost its powere, being associated as it is with people who believe seemingly anything and express that belief online. But when I see the things happening at Trump rallies and hear the things that he's saying to froth up his supporters and the elections in Germany, which feel so fear-fueled....